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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Copyright, 1895, by 
F. TENNYSON NEELY 




3f TWc €)nfg (Enm 




F we only knew, if we only knew 

But a little part of the things we see, 
Methinks the false would be oft more true 
Than what is truth — or what seems to be : 
If we only knew — if we only knew ! 

If we only knew the pain we cause 

By the slighting look or the word of shame, 
By the seeking out of those old, old flaws 

That one scarce could help in the race for fame ; 
If we only knew that the deeds we scorn 

Might some day fall to ourselves to do, 
Or if not us, to our babes unborn : 

If we only knew — if we only knew ! 

If we only knew how the man we spurn 

Had fought temptation — ay, day and night ; 
If we only knew, would we so turn 

And cast him off as a loathsome sight ? 
Ah me ! instead of the sinner's brand, 

We'd gladly help him the right to do ; 
We'd lift him up with each honest hand, 

If we ofily knew — if we only knew I 
3 



If we only knew how the woman fell, 

Would we shun her as now, whene'er we meet ? 
Would we leave her then to that bitter hell 

Of self and sin and the homeless street ? 
Would we shrug our shoulders and toss our head 

For trusting too much, or being too true, 
Or sinning, perhaps, as some do, for bread ? 

If we only knew — if we only knew / 

If we only knew of that girl last night 

Who stood for a moment just at our door, 
Ere she turned away from the cheerful light 

And sought the silence of Death's still shore, 
Would we deem her mad, or turn aside 

From half-starved lips so cold and blue, 
If they could tell us just why she died ? 

If we only knew — if we only knew ! 

« « 4c « H« « 

If we only knew that the hearts we miss 

Would have stayed so short in this vale of woe, 
How much more sweet would have been each kiss ! 

But we did not know — we did not know. 
Regrets are useless, and tears but blind, 

And empty words can no past undo ; 
It's no good sighing — I'd been more kind 

If I only knew — if I only knew I 




3f. 




F Fate were naught — and we were wise, 
How calmly would we plan the earth ! 
There'd be no sorrow, tears, or dearth ; 
Nothing but joy would fill our eyes 
If Fate were naught — and we were wise. 



Ah yes ! how well we'd lay each plan ! 

In life, in love, we'd all agree ; 

We'd make no blunders ; we would see 
The wisest choice for girl or man 
If Fate were naught — how well we'd plan ! 

If Fate were naught — and we were wise, 
All things our wondrous minds would see ; 
We'd make "the present " change " to be ; 

We'd write " it must " across the skies. 

If Fate were naught — and we were wise, 
Ah! what a hash all things would be ! 






3n Okmoriatn. 

STOOD and watched her eyelids close— 
The eyes that loved me long and well, 
The eyes in which love seemed to dwell, 



From which my purest thoughts arose. 



God loved her too, and He, all-wise, 
Deemed her too pure for me or mine ; 
Took her up mid His saints to shine, 

And filled with tears my weary eyes. 

For ah ! the God of Love knew well 

That where she was, there was my prize ; 
That I would even seek the skies, 

If I with her might hope to dwell. 

And so along life's path I roam 

Half fearing lest we ne'er might meet, 
Half fearing lest my wayward feet 

Should lead me from my darling's home. 






O crown without some cross, 
No life without some loss, 
No rose without some thorn, 
No night without some morn, 
No love without some cloud. 
No home without some shroud, 
No joy without some pain — 
Yet life is not in vain ; 
Some day all will be plain. 





Sxfe. 



lOME, kiss me right on the lips, my love, 
I And kiss me again, dear heart, dear heart ; 
I Come hold me closer, my life, my love. 
Why did you whisper that we must part ? 
You're going away ? — oh, it cannot be 
That you've come to-night to say good-by ! 
But 'twill only be for a season, love — 
What do you mean by that weary sigh ? 

You cannot mean it — what have you said ? 
That you must leave me and go away ? 
But I gave you my love and we were wed 
A year ago this very day. 
What are you saying ? — the deed was false. 
My heart is breaking, my words are wild ; 
But one thing binds, tho' all laws may fail— 
You have forgotten — our child — our child ! 

When years were over he came again, 
A moneyed man in the world's high place ; 
He passed the house and he stopped to think 
Just for a moment of her sweet face. 
'' I wonder," thought he, " how fares the child, 
That baby-girl with those eyes of blue. 
How strange it is that, tho' men are wild, 
They rarely suffer for what they do ! " 
8 



4 
Just at that moment a fair young face 

Came down the roadway and crossed the street. 

And the old man turned ; for so much grace 

Is not the lot of all men to meet. 

She was fair and young — but oh ! so false 

That tales about her are best untold. 

She played with men as one plays with straws, 

And balanced hearts but by weight of gold. 



She passed again— she had angled well ; 
By but a toss of that peerless head. 
Old fools are worst ; and the old man fell, 
And scandal whispered that he would wed. 
He had millions to spend — she loved his gold ; 
She dragged his name from its lofty place ; 
She ruled his household, for he was old 
And deaf and blind, to his own disgrace. 



One day his marriage was noised abroad. 
At night a supper was served in state ; 
She sat beside him and drank each toast. 
The last she drank was a toast to Fate. 
** To Fate ! " — the old man laughed and said- 
*' I'll tell you a tale of my early life, 
A woman I loved — we'll call it Fate — 
She was the image of this, my wife." 



He told the tale of that cruel night. 
For passion and wine had flushed his face. 
'^ You're like my old love, child," he said, 
" And you forever shall take her place." 
He had not noticed that while he spoke 
Her lips had changed to a deadly white ; 
And o'er her features a strange look broke, 
And in her eyes was a wild, fierce light. 

9 



And leaning out o'er the snowy cloth 
Her shapely hands with a long knife played, 
While the old man told of his heartless life 
And gave as a toast to the bride he'd made. 
But springing up in her fierce, mad hate, 
*' Never ! " she cried, in her accents wild, 
" You killed my mother — laugh now at Fate- 
You die for her — / a??t her child! " 




lO 





Ringing. 

O sing is to stand at God's threshold, 
To break for a moment life's chains. 

To rise o'er the " feelings that fetter," 
To lose in God's heavenly strains 

The self and the serfdom that bind us 
Like cords that are woven with pains. 

To sing — ^be it ever so humbly — 

Is to use the most God-given gift, 
To stand as a Saviour — a giver, 

To counsel, to comfort, to lift, 
To carry love, power, dominion 

To all ; for the singer would win 
And carry all up to God's threshold 

And leave them a little within. 




II 




T is so hard to love — and not be loved, 

So hard to never, never see the light, 
To live as in a dream of fancies fair, 

To wake and find it always, always night, 
To still the thoughts that rise to trembling lips, 

To hush the words that ask for speech in vain, 
To live a life of one long drear eclipse. 

And smile to hide the sharpness of the pain. 




12 



( 



i 



batting. 




KNOW no pain beyond the pain of waiting, 
The weary waiting for what cometh not ; 

The pang of having loved, and ever knowing 
That love lives on mid promises forgot. 



I know no tears beyond the tears of being 
Voiceless in the agony of dumb despair ; 

The void within the heart, and it so spreading 
That all things fade that once were, oh, so fair. 

I know no hunger past the hollow yearning 

That feeds the heart with some half-stifled moan ; 

The begging for the bread, and the receiving 
Not e'en the crumbs that fall — only a stone. 

I know no death beyond the pang of dying 

When love comes back and stands without the gate ; 

When blighted life, from life, forever flying, 

Tears out its heart and cries — Too late ! too late ! 




13 




(Bifeen. 




O you'd like me to tell you a story, 
If I've anything strange or new ; 
You won't mind if it's not of glory, 
Or deeds that all heroes do. 

For to-night my thoughts keep turning 
To a tale that is simple — but true. 



Far from here, 'mong the hills of Galway, 
Where the valleys are always green, 

Where life seems to pass in a slumber, 
'Neath the light of love's golden sheen, 

There comes to my heart with the picture 
A strange kind of life like a dream. 

A dream of a woman so tender — 
So tender, so lovely, so true — 

That I pause in life's march to remember 
An' tell the strange story to you ; 

An' methinks she is here at this moment 
To help with my heart's sad review. 



Oh, God ! how I loved that woman ! 

To think of it now makes me start ; 
*Twas a love, ay, more than is human, 

Ay, more than is good for the heart ; 
For the soul in the depths of my bosom 

Of that love and that life had a part. 
14 



An' thus our lives were so blended, 
We cared not what scandal was spread, 

Tho' the priests and the peo;jle contended 
That cursed were those who had wed 

Without some white altar before them, 
And words that are usually said. 

So they drove us forth from the village, 
But we cared not, an' wandered away, 

Away o'er the vales an' the valleys. 
To the seashore, an' there in a bay 

I built a rough hut from the wreckage. 
Just out of the reach of the spray. 

An' we lived there like children together, 
On the fruits of the land an' the sea ; 

Ay, lived there as wild as the weather. 
That ofttimes was as wild as could be. 

For we loved an' were happy together, 
For she was life's sunshine to me. 



But alas ! too well I remember 

One day when the summer was spent, 
The landlord with bailiffs behind him 

Came down an' demanded some rent- 
Some rent for our poor little cabin ; 
1 scarce knew at first what he meant. 



But he laughed at our prayers an' entreaties, 
An' said to his men, " Bring a light ; 

We'll make such a fire of this wreckage, 
That ships may be lost in its sight." 

So they did — an' he whispered to Eileen 
A thought that was blacker than night. 
15 



But what could I do, being a peasant, 
To guard my poor darling from him ? 

I just whispered to God to control me, 
Lest then I were tempted to sin, 

As I saw him ride off in the distance, 
Till the twilight grew lonesome an' dim. 



Then I turned me round to my darling, 

An' looked at my Eileen so bright, 
An' whispered, "Child, pray to your Maker, 
That you always keep pure in His sight ; 

For I fear me some evil is coming 

On the blackened wide wings of the night." 



But Eileen — she laughed at forebodings, 
An' looking away to the west, 

Said, " Ah, no, let us pray for the sailors 
To-night on the ocean's wild crest." 

So the two of us knelt down together. 
An' left to our Maker the rest. 



There we lay in the light of our cabin, 
That was blazing away through the night, 

While the billows grew louder an' louder. 
An' the storm was increasing in height. 

When suddenly out in the darkness 
Came a terrible shriek of affright. 



'Twas a wreck on the rocks beyond us. 
An' there in the surf at our door 

Was a man in the wild, rough billows. 
Not a hundred yards from the shore. 

She looked at him, then she kissed me. 
And sighed as she looked out once more. 
i6 



That kiss seemed to give me new courage, 
That kiss seemed to fly through my blood ; 

In a second I was out in the breakers, 
An' battling with foam an' with flood. 

I was strong, but they were the stronger, 
An' I gasped with each watery flood. 

I was out in the breakers struggling, 
But had scarcely yetJ, left the shore, 

When I thought that I heard my darling 
Scream higher than even the roar 

Of wind an' wave and of billow ; 
But I could not think of it more. 



For just then I was close to the sailor, 

As faintly he seemed to moan, 
** Oh, my God ! my God ! I'm drowning, 

Drowning now in the sight of home." 
Then I remembered no more but the struggling 

In that awful wide waste of foam. 



AVhen I came to myself, 'twas daylight ; 

I was lying there on the sand. 
With the man I had saved bending o'er me, 

Holding fast to his heart my hand ; 
An' I looked an' I started — God help me ! 

He was heir to my tyrant's broad land. 



Then I thought of Eileen, my Eileen, 
An' I tried to walk up the shore. 

Till I saw the cabin still smoking 

An' hingeless the now blackened door ; 

An' the previous night seemed to cross me 
With a cry I had heard before. 
17 



I rushed to the waves in my frenzy, 

Scanned their billows far, near, an' wide. 

Then saw in a kind of mad envy 

That they lapped at my feet in their pride ; 

An' I prayed an' I begged and besought them 
To give me my darling, my bride. 



But they mocked at my wild entreaties 
With their ghastly upturned lips. 

With their foam wreaths forever curling 
From the rocks an' the sandy slips. 

With the happy songs that they bore me 
From the decks of the far-off ships. 



For the waves were in love with my darling ; 

They had dragged her down to their bed. 
An' I dream that they deck her with jewels, 

With corals an' rubies so red, 
That they mock the sweet lips of my Eileen — 

The lips of the loved an' the dead. 




i8 



(JtegrefB. 




H ! the glorious golden summer ! 
Ah ! the happy joyous murmur 
Of the birds ! 
With the fragrance of the flowers 
Comes the thought of buried hours, 

Bygone words. 
As each petal opes before us, 
Visions sad come crowding o'er us 

Of the past. 
Once again the days of childhood 
Pass amid the waving wild wood 

All too fast ; 
Once again the press of fingers 
In our own a moment lingers. 

Loath to part ; 
And the thoughts we'd fain have vanish 
Rise as ghosts we cannot banish 

From each heart. 



Once again harsh words are spoken, 
Golden links lie rudely broken 

Of life's chain. 
Summer may with golden glory 
Gild the opening of my story, 

But the pain — 
19 



Ah ! the pain, the pain of parting, 
In my weary bosom smarting, 

Sears my breast. 
She is laid where grasses waving 
Swell my heart's wild^ ceaseless cj-aving 

For its rest. 

Summer past, the Autumn follows : 
Fading flowers, fleeing swallows, 
Wild birds hushed and winds that, sighing, 
Chant of days that know no dying ; 
And my heart, so sad and dreary, 
Sees the changing of earth's scene, 
And it asks, " When life is weary, 
Will she lift the veil between ? " 
When the summer leaves are shaded 
Will her sweet voice some day call — 
Some day when life's flowers have faded. 
And the leaves of Autumn fall ? 




20 





OU'RE lying dead — and I've followed the bier 
Over the streets to the burial ground ; 
But why should I falter — why should I fear 
A marble cross and a grassy mound ? 

The world has said you were happily wed, 
That I was a husband fond and true, 

A man respected — an honored head 

( What would they think if they only knew ?) 

Bah ! you were a woman — you stood in my way. 
You, who had only good thoughts to give ; 

Others had money — alack-a-day — 

I often thought that you could not live. 

A little drug when the night was still 

(Ah, how well does my memory serve !) ; 

'Tis easy enough methinks to kill, 
1/ one has only the strength of nerve. 

You lay in my arms that cursed night. 

Your innocent face pressed closed to mine ; 

You little thought as you went to sleep 
You slept indeed in the arms of crime. 

21 



But why should I think of those words you said, 
Or that awful look as you passed away ? 

What's done is done, and what's dead is dead — 
There's no such thing as a reckoning day. 

And yet methinks, as the earth rolls in, 

You stretch your arms from your narrow tomb ; 

You hiss in my ears my awful sin — 

Oh God !— if these people would give me room ! 

They're crowding round me on every side, 
Pushing me, pushing me to the grave — 

Back, fellows, back ! — is the ground not wide ? 
I gasp for breath — is there none to save ? 



Her hand is closing upon my throat. 

Her haunting eyes have grown fixed on mine- 

Who are these jailers ? — what have I done ? 
Oh God! Fve told them my deed of crime ! 




22 




@. €reeb. 




IVE for some earnest purpose, 

Live for some noble life, 
Live for the hearts that love you, 
Live that you conquer strife ; 
Live that the world may find you 

Honest and pure of thought, 
Live tho' it frown upon you, 
Live as all true men ought. 



What does it matter, brother. 

If in the race for fame 
The one gains a gilded carriage. 

The other a poor man's name ? 
Life's but a little season. 

Naught but a passing cloud ; 
One day it lives in sunshine, 

The next — the winding shroud. 



Why do you live ? you murmur; 

Why do you die ? I ask, 
When the golden good of kindness 

Lies oft within thy grasp. 
*Tis but a word of comfort, 

'Tis but a softened heart, 
'Tis but a look of pity 

When tears are seen to start. 
23 



'Tis but a word of guidance, 

Only a friendly touch, 
One moment's self-denial ; 

But oh ! it is so much, 
That heavy hearts grow lighter, 

And life is robbed of pain, 
And somewhere in the world 

Yours is the greater gain. 

4: % Hi ^ 

Be ye, then, Jew or Gentile, 

Ask not the other's creed ; 
For if the flower be spotless, 

Care ye where grow the seed? 
Live for the one true purpose 
That honest hearts may rise. 
Work thro' the noon of manhood 

And when the evening dies 
There need be no forebodings — 

Angels will close thine eyes. 




24 




HEY said that Heaven was over there, 
And pointed towards the snowy clouds 
That floated by Uke aimless crowds 

Of long-dead thoughts in sunlit air. 

And 1 looked up in mute dismay 

And murmured low : If such ye teach, 
'Tis far too high for me to reach ; 

And so I sadly turned away. 

And wandered on, and on, and on. 
With scarce a purpose or command, 
Half hoping that in some lone land 

I'd wake and find Life's torment gone. 

But lo ! amid my soul's despair, 
I reached an alley in a town. 
And saw a woman bending down, 

O'er sick and weary hearts of care. 

And as I looked, methought a voice 
Spoke softly at the woman's side : 
For such as these a Saviour died ; 

Do you do likewise, and rejoice. 

Rejoice that Heaven lies not away 
Beyond the clouds or starlit dome. 
But in each heart and in each homCy 

And in the deeds of every day. 



25 



£tfc. 




H ! life is a maze of partings and meetings, 
An hour of delight and a day of despair ; 
We pause for a moment to gather the greetings, 
We pass and repass like the phantoms of air. 



We think for a moment : Ah, now we are happy, 
The brightness of loving can have no eclipse ! 

But while we are thinking, the sunlight is sinking, 
And so with dead kisses we moisten our lips. 

We smile by forgetting the past with its sorrow, 
We live by imagining moments more fair ; 

We conquer to-day by the dream of to-morrow, 
We read by the rushlight of fancies that were. 

Thus toiling and resting, and doubting and testing, 
We carry our burden 'mid gladness and strife, 

But while we are thinking, the sunlight is sinking, 
And this is the thing that we worship as — Life. 




26 





WOMAN stood and watched awhile 

A river and some lilies white ; 
Her face was fair — no trace of guile 
Lay in her eyes so pure and bright. 
She liked the lilies and the stream, 

But ah, the weeds soon pained her sight ; 
She murmured low, " God made the scene, 
And yet I doubt if it be right." 

Just as she spake, from down the glen 
The rough winds swayed the lilies tall ; 

They bow, they bend, they soon would break- 
But weeds support them ere they fall. 

But she, too pure to see its truth. 
Went thinking but of lilies fair, 

Not knowing that her age and youth 
Were at that moment acted there. 

Again she came — a year had fled ; 

She'd been too proud — lilies too tall, 
Be they the purest of the kind, 

'Tis often said are first to fall. 
The glen was calm — no sound was heard, 

Save lily leaves that tapped the lake : 
She murmured low, '' O God, forgive, 

For e'en thy purest lilies break." 
27 



But as she toyed with Death awhile, 

Ere to her Hps she pressed his cup, 
Close to her side a deep voice said, 

" But may not weeds bear lilies up ? 
Thou art more fair and not less frail ; 

A fall but makes each step more sure ; 
To love is human — if we fail, 

Still to the pure all things are pure'* 

So ends the tale — go thou and see 
The weeds and lilies in Life's stream ; 

Thy heart may tell thee more, my friend ; 
Go, think it o'er — 'tis not a dream. 




28 




'1^% 




AY in thy future there be hid somewhere 

So much of Hght and love, that you may deem 
All nature came, and making life a dream, 
Made it most fair. 



€o 




T matters not if thou be understood 

In thy great effort for the greatest good ; 
Thy motive high, thy purpose life's demands— 
What matter then aught else ? — God understands. 




ND would we question fate ? Methinks 
In life's long chain we are the little links 
That stretch the endless whole ; and thus I teach, 
As part of life so are we part of each. 




29 




t^e fitBi bag of t^e toeeft comef ^ (tttarg (Jt^agbafene earfg * * * cmd eeef ^ f ^e 
Bfone faften airag from t^e 6e|3ufc^re.— 3o^n xx. i. 




A.S it not Mary who in early dawn 

Was first to find the breaking of the day — 
Mary the sinful one, Mary the scorned, 
Who came so early to the grave to pray ? 



Was it not Mary who with glad acclaim 

Gave forth the truth — of but an empty tomb, 

Of Christ, the risen Lord, who conquered shame, 
Who stood triumphant over Death and gloom ? 

And yet in after days of " Christian light " 
The Magdalen is scarce allowed a place ; 

The cloak we give is but the darkest night, 
To hide the tears that trickle down her face. 



Oh God, how good we are that we must make 
Such fine distinctions with each class and creed ! 

How wise to do it but for Thy dear sake, 
And not for vain position or for greed ! (?) 

How kind in us to send to foreign shores, 
To teach the pagan how to live above 

All base deceit — that e'en the heathen stores 
May be conducted with " our Christian love " ! 



Oh God, of all the human and the right, 

Our creeds have cast us in a narrow mould ; 

They fain would make us without soul or sight, 
But fit for barter as the coins we hold. 

Our guides are but as puppets in the poll, 

Our sacred thoughts are weighed by gain or loss, 
Our temples have no shelter for the soul, 

Though spire and dome be sculptured in a cross. 

****** 
Oh God, of all the noble and the true. 

Make us more human— and in thus divine. 
That from the hearts long dead may rise anew 

A Living Christ in this, Thy Easter-time. 




31 





C^xxBtmaz &u. 

N angel floats o'er our homes to-night 
With wings outspread 'neath the stars of light, 
With eyes of love that on all look down 
From the Heaven of peace to the crowded town ; 
And the angel prays in the night air calm, 
And stars repeat her half-whispered psalm 
From sphere to sphere and from height to height, 
" Let there be peace in this town to-night." 

She lifts her hands, and the blessing falls, 

On lowest hovels, on lordliest halls, 

On darkest alleys, on streets of light, 

" Let there be peace in this town to-night." 

Ay, peace to all — to the factory room. 

To its whirling wheels and its rattling loom, 

To its weary workers, so worn and white, 

*' Let there be peace in this town to-night." 

To all, to all, there is none too low, 
Or none too crushed with their weight of woe, 
Or none too high for Good Will to reach, 
As part of life are we part of each. 
To she who sinneth, and he who sinned, 
To that poor outcast so dunned and dinned, 
To tramp and beggar, to lord, to slave. 
To ships that ride on the wintery wave, 
And to that mourner that bows the head 
To the sainted names of the newly dead, 
May comfort come, and may they see 
T/iaf all is good, and is best to be. 
32 



To orphaned ones, to those heirs of care 
That are homeless, houseless, everywhere, 
May some sweet act of kindness wrought 
Redeem the name of Christian thought ; 
And to those others that somehow came. 
As gifts of love or as marks of shame, 
May they feel no sorrow, no sin, no slight, 
In the shadowing peace of God's love to-night. 




33 




€^t Q0utning of J^^ncfefeg. 



w^ 



(^n ^ncittni of nX)cBktn l^ife. 

LL aboard ! all aboard ! " the clang of the engine- 
bell, 
An' we stretched our hands thro' the windows, an' 
bade them a long farewell. 
We were goin' back to the East, sir, for Jack had a vow to 

keep — 
"A wife in bond," I believe he said, an' he was behind a 

week. 
But that wasn't due to bein' careless, sir, but due to that 

awful drought 
An' the fires around the farmstead that had kept us for weeks 

in doubt ; 
For they rose when we thought them conquered — if you have 

ever lost your rest 
By travellin' across the country, you may know what a blaze 

is West. 
Well, this year it was somethin' awful, for the forests were 

all on fire. 
An' waves of flame for miles and miles rose higher an' ever 

higher ; 
An' the oldest in Minnesota could not, in their bygone days, 
Remember or even imagine the fierceness of that last blaze. 
If you've seen a Western fire, sir, you know what I mean 

when I say 
That the pictures of the judgment ain't in it, by a long, long 

way, 

34 



With those forests of pine an' undergrowth, an' grass eight 

feet in height, 
That somehow catch fire and blaze, sir, ay, morn an' noon 

an' night. 
But Jack an' myself had won, sir ; we were safe in the rail- 
road train, 
With many a burn on our face an' hands, with many a scar 

an' stain. 
But stains from honest toil, sir, an' 'tis such makes the no- 
blest crest ; 
Those are the heraldic signs, sir, that we honor an' love out 

West. 
But we'd soon be back in the East now — we hadn't been 

home for years — 
An' as we talked of the dear old place, I saw in Jack's eyes 

the tears ; 
For he was that kin' o' chap, sir, who'd never say die in a 

fight, 
While the name of home or mother in a moment would 

queer his sight. 
We'd been sittin' still for hours, sir, for the noise an' burr of 

the train 
Had a kind o' soothin', calmin' effect after such weeks of 

strain, 
When Jack, he bent over an' roused me, an' pointed away to 

the right, 
Where a bank of smoke rose up to the sky, black as the 

wings of night ; 
With a kin' o' shake in his voice, too, he whispered within 

my ear : 
" Mate, if yon forest takes fire, it v/ill be over with us, I 

fear." 
I laughed at him for a moment, till I saw that the woods 

behind 
Lay right in the arms of the fire an' straight in the teeth of 

the wind ; 



35 



And before us on either side, sir, they stretched like a great 

dark wall, 
With that cloud of smoke comin' onward, with a shape like a 

funeral pall ; 
An' my heart stood still in my bosom for them childer and 

women folk 
Who were standin' up in the windows, half scared by the 

blindin' smoke. 
On, on, went the train in the darkness, for, tho' it was only 

noon, 
It was black as pitch all around us — ay, dark as the day of 

doom ; 
But away we went tearin* onward, each second increasin' our 

speed, 
For there was a man in that engine, a hero in thought an' in 

deed — 
A man who a few weeks before, sir, they disgraced for aidin' 

a strike, 
But face to face with our danger, he showed what a hero is 

like ; 
For what did he do at Hinckley ? — tho' he hadn't a moment 

to spare — 
He brought that train to a stand, sir, an' took on the few 

that were there. 
For Hinckley was burned to ashes, an' before our nigh sight- 
less eyes 
The flames of each cottage an* homestead rose up to the 

blackened skies, 
An' the bodies of men and cattle, escapin' in their mad 

flight, 
Were o'ertaken and burned together — ay, almost before our 

sight. 
But that hero there in the engine, he wouldn't pull off from 

the place 
Till he'd saved full many a hundred — then he entered for 

that mad race. 



36 



An' you should have seen how the wheels flew ; but werethey 

ten times more fast, 
Full many of us on the cars, sir, had reckoned that day as 

our last ; 
For the fire had burst through the forest— oh God ! how it 

seemed to gain ! 
As it neared us, an' neared us, an' neared us, till the heat of 

the flyin' train 
Scorched us, as huddled together like cattle we lay on the 

floor, 
Half blind by the smoke an' the flames, sir, half deaf by that 

awful roar. 
For the tongues of fire that followed seemed to hiss with 

the sparks that fell 
Like the hiss of a million demons let loose from the flames 

of hell. 

An' Jack, he suddenly whispered : " If it should be your 

fate to get thro', 
I want you to tell my old woman that I did just as good 

as I knew 
While struggling to make her a homestead, an' while I was 

out in the West 
I always was honest and upright — I tried to do what was best ; 
An' tell her, mate, how I loved her, an' how in this moment 

of doom " 

But Jack didn't finish his sentence, for he fell at my feet in 

a swoon. 
An' I took him up in my arms, sir, an' I fought to get him 

some air. 
An' I carried him up to the engine, but I laid him down in 

despair, 
For the flames were leapin' around it — ay, leapin' up higher 

an' higher, 
Till the only thing you could see, sir, was a blindin' white 

sheet of fire. 



37 



I'd have lost my head at that moment if I hadn't caught * 

hold of the sight 
Of two brave lads on the engine still out in the thick of the 

fight; 
Their clothes were burnt on their backs, sir, the cab of the 

engine was red, 
The flesh of their hands was blistered — still the furnace they 

rapidly fed 
As they urged that engine onwards, for they knew that a 

swampy creek 
Was lyin' not far before them, an' they made for that narrow 

streak. 
I looked back at the train for a second — oh God ! what an 

awful sight ! 
For the fire had reached the end, now, an' that car was a 

blaze of light. 
An' the rest were about to follow, when, sickened, I turned 

away — 
But there, just lyin' ahead, sir, was the first faint glimpse of 

the day ; 
An' there lay the creek before us — I wanted to call for a 

cheer, 
To tell to the comrades behind us of help and relief so 

near. 
But my heart nigh stopped for dread, sir ; a somethin' nigh 

choked my speech. 
For there was a bridge o'er the gap, sir, an' the fire was well 

in reach, 
An' sappin' each post and each pillar, an' lickin' each rod an' 

rail. 
Oh God ! it was awful to see it — ay, awful just then to 

fail. 
But those heroes there on the engine, they knew they'd a 

moment to spare — 
We were out on the bridge in a second — there wasn't e'en 

time for a prayer — 

38 



When away went the blazin' timbers — a crash and a deaf- 

enin' roar ; 
But we crossed, sir — crossed in safety — an' were saved on 

the other shore. 

****** 
An' now for a cheer for those heroes ; if you love to give 

honor its due, 
If you value your country's record of deeds that are great 

and true, 
If you'd like to encourage duty, and actions both brave and 

right, 
Give a ringin' cheer for those heroes, be they far or near 

to-night. 




E thou what God has made of thee — 
A lily fair on life's calm lake — 
That all thy friends may always be 
In love with love for love's sweet sake. 




39 



" IVitk this book in ones hand anyone could be a palmist " 




Size of book, 8^ x lo^ 



'' As is the mind, so is the form " 

CHEIRO'S 

LANGUAGE OF THE HAND 



A Complete Practical Work on the Sciences 
of Cbeirognomy and Cheiromancy, con- 
taining the System, Rules, and Experience 



OF 



CHEIRO THE PALMIST 

Forty Full-page Illustrations and over Two Hundred 
Engravings of Lines, Mounts and Marks 

Drawings of the Seven Types by THEO. DORE 



Full-page reproductions of famous bands, also Normal and 
Abnormal bands taken from life, including .... 

The hands of Rev. C. H. Parkhurst, D.D., Madame Sarah 
Bernhardt, Mark Twain, Madame Nordica, Col. Robert G. 
Ingersoll, Mrs. Frank Leslie, Mr. W. T. Stead, The Right 
Hon. Joseph Chamberlain, M.P., Mrs. Annie Besant, Sir 
Frederick Leigh ton, P.R.A., Sir John Lubbock,M.P.,F.R.S., 
The Countess of Aberdeen, Sir Edwin Arnold, and the Lord 
Chief Justice of England. 

Fifth Edition, enlarged, $2,50 

Sent, post-paid, on receipt of price 



F. TENNYSON NEELY 



254 FRANKLIN STREET 
CHICAGO 



114 FIFTH AVENUE 
NEW YORK 






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